


Mitgegangen, mitgefangen, mitgehangen

by Himmelreich



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was unfair that one lapse in judgement and temper in his student days continued to haunt him up until now, really.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mitgegangen, mitgefangen, mitgehangen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meguri_aite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/gifts).



> _Mitgegangen, mitgefangen, mitgehangen_ : German idiom expressing that if you entertain the wrong company, you only have yourself to blame if you are caught and hanged alongside them.

                                                                         

 

 

 

“It’s running half an hour late,” Diederich complained, snapping his watch shut and shoving it back into the pocket of his coat. A gentleman walking down the street cast him a snide look, but Diederich ignored him.

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer, Sir,” Heinrich stated in his inexhaustible patientce for the third time on this day.

It was a blindingly bright, cloudless summer’s day. Too hot to wear his full uniform, but he had not intended to wait, unmoving, in the heat of the afternoon for that long. An occasional cool breeze coming from the lake shore carried the smell of hay and warm earth from across the meadows beyond the town all the way to the small station, providing at least some relief. By all means, it was a pleasant day to leave the stifling air in the capital's overcrowded streets for the countryside.

Well, it would have been, except the reason for this trip was far from being plain leisure, which immediately turned the undertaking into a mild annoyance.

The near-horse to his right huffed as if equally troubled, and Diederich resisted the urge to check the watch again, shifting impatiently in the saddle. He could have completed a whole stack of paperwork by now if he had stayed in his office.

 

“I think I can hear the train,” Heinrich thankfully spoke up in that moment, standing up on the coach box. He shielded his eyes against the afternoon sun low in the skies, peering down the tracks.

Diederich could hear it, too, now, the rhythmic roaring of the engine soon followed by the appearance of the cloud of steam and smoke on the horizon. The sense of relief at the wait being over was mixed with the contrary, long-familiar flare of exasperation at the prospect of meeting who he had come to pick up.

But that was just how things usually were when Vincent Phantomhive was involved - never simple and somehow always aggravating.

 

He liked to think he was prepared for whatever would follow, but he had the nagging suspicion that he was, in fact, not. In any case, he remained exactly where he was in front of the station building even as the train approached. If Vincent wanted something, he should come to him, that much pride Diederich had left, even if he had inadvertently made himself an indentured servant to an Evil Nobleman for life.  
  
Like with all politics, it was about the small statements.

 

The train ground to a halt with an obnoxious screeching sound and the slamming of doors, shouted greetings and peals of laughter followed as some passengers disembarked. The smoke tinted the clear skies with an ugly smear of grey and burned in his eyes and mind, but Diederich still recognised the two men as soon as they appeared on the top of the staircase. Vincent stopped for a second, then apparently spotted him, giving him a short wave before sauntering down the steps, looking as unconcerned as can be. His butler followed in a slightly more dignified manner, carrying two large suitcases.

With just about everyone else, Diederich would have been appalled to see an man of good upbringing piling so much labour on a visibly elderly servant, but it was the Phantomhives and nothing was as it seemed with them. Vincent’s close combat techniques were all taught by Tanaka, after all, and Diederich was inclined to believe in the general consensus that it was better not to ask about the exact provenance of the Phantomhive head servant. The whispered rumours of the remaining staff he overheard had included bits about him being an exiled infamous soldier and that sounded feasible enough from what he had seen.

At least Vincent looked physically unharmed, so maybe the situation was not as bad as his sudden message asking for an immediate rendezvous had suggested. Or maybe it meant the complete opposite, with him, who was to say.

 

“ _Gott zum Gruße, mein Fr-_ ”

“Cut the pleasantries. What did you do this time, Phantomhive?” Diederich interrupted curtly.

Vincent’s smile did not waver in the slightest as he stepped closer. He clearly took the fact that Diederich refused to dismount to meet him and was literally looking down on him in stride. Riling this person up was unusually hard, as most things that would have posed horrible affronts to any other noble did not seem to bother him in the slightest, much to Diederich’s dismay. In fact, the only time he had genuinely managed to insult him had been when he had mocked the Blue House as a whole. Then again, seeing how that event had lead to their bet, in retrospect he was not even quite sure if Vincent’s anger had not been a ruse, too. He certainly would not put it past him.

“Now, now, what kind of welcome is that, Dee? Do I need a reason to visit an old friend?”

 

Diederich narrowed his eyes at the sugar-coated insincerity of the words and the colloquial form of address alike, but his rightful anger went by entirely unnoticed as Vincent had moved on to pet his horse instead.

Vincent was the living proof that the superstition according to which children and animals were able to sense evil intent was nothing more than an old-wife’s tale. Brats and beasts alike usually were immediately smitten with him, as was everyone else, and even that hellhound Sebastian that looked like it had jumped right out of the Easter Promenade scene in _Faust_ behaved nothing but a faithful lapdog in his master’s presence. Well, Diederich knew better.

 

When he remained pointedly silent, Vincent looked back at him, leaning in a little closer and resting one hand on Diederich’s knee. He was still smiling, but Diederich recognised the expression in his eyes that meant he was entirely serious despite the levity of his voice.

“I may or may not have upset some members of the extended Habsburg family and could use some support in returning to England.”

For a second, Diederich considered just turning his horse and leaving. It was unfair that one lapse in judgement and temper in his student days continued to haunt him up until now. Instead, he gritted his teeth and tossed Vincent the reins of the near-horse.

“Get up.”

“I knew I could count on you,” Vincent said brightly.

Diederich cast a questioning look at his servant who gave him a sign to go ahead. He and Tanaka were in the process of stashing the suitcases away and seemed able to get along splendidly despite the possible language barrier. Servants were their own kind of amazing, Diederich decided.

He spurred his horse on without checking if Vincent was ready to follow.

 

“I’m quite surprised that it’s such a, hm, _rural_ area here. Somehow I imagined you living in a more pompous environment, _gloria et patria_ and all that.”

Vincent’s casual tactlessness wrapped in a friendly mocking tone informed Diederich that of course, he had caught up easily.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I don’t live here permanently. My father acquired this place for a good price as part of the reparations Bavaria had to pay after the Prussian-Austrian War,” Diederich explained wearily, keeping on looking ahead the road leading them through a patch of forest. “It comes in handy for travelling south. Or when I have to hide suspicious English spies from Austrian law enforcement. It’s a safer place to meet than the capital at least.”

“I see. Well, it explains why the people here dislike you.”

At this, Diederich snapped his head around to glare at Vincent, who, despite the long and most likely arduous travel, now radiated all the good humoured air of someone just out for a stroll.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The people at the station,” Vincent elaborated, his smile turning slightly more wicked, more true to his nature. “It’s necessary to be able to read people’s moods correctly, Dee. They cut you, and that was even before they noticed I’m English, so it wasn’t my fault.”

 

Diederich was tempted to say “It’s always your fault”, but he realised it would be childish. Instead, he took a deep breath and continued.

“Well, people here dislike everything that’s north and west of their borders. So in between not being Bavarian and being protestant, they have more than enough reasons not to like me, I suppose. And that isn’t even factoring in English friends.”

Vincent shook his head, laughing so hard his horse fell into a startled canter.

“I’ll never understand German politics,” he wheezed, reigning the horse back in and wiping at his eyes with gloved fingers. “You’re ridiculous. Well, don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I mind if it’s a more humble abode here, I still appreciate the hospitality. You’re only a Baron, after all, Dee, though a quite dashing one if it’s any consolation to you.”

Diederich did not answer, and Vincent continued.

“If this isn’t your main residence, I’m sad that means I won’t get to meet your family, though. I was looking forward to that, you know.”

“I’m never going to have you meet my family!”

 

There were only two possible outcomes of his family becoming acquainted with Vincent Phantomhive, and Diederich was not sure which he disliked more. He had never quite told the truth about this certain friendship when he had returned from Weston; he had merely said that, just as his father had wished, he had established a network of connections with influential aristocrats founded on a close relationship with an old-established English noble. It had not been a lie at its core.

If, however, his father had only an inkling of the fact that additionally to this truth, Diederich had become accomplice to what basically was Her Majesty’s personal detective, assassin and spy all in one, he probably would die wishing having sent his son to a boarding school in Lucerne instead.

In some ways, Vincent was the polar opposite of the values Diederich’s father was holding in such high esteem, relying more on charisma, influence and persuasion than straightforwardness, hard work and sobriety, and in general at least on the surface appearing to be the picture of aristocratic decadence, opulence and cynicism. So there was the chance of Diederich’s family disliking the man on sight, and by extension disapproving of Diederich’s choice in company, however unwilling it might have been at the start.

The other possibility was that instead, like so many others before them, they would be charmed and won over on the spot by fake smiles and affable politeness, the layer of insincere pleasantries and pretended harmlessness Vincent surrounded himself with, and somehow, that would be far worse.

 

“Aw, how mean of you. To think you’d deprive me of that experience even though I invited you to my family’s estate over our last Christmas break at school,” Vincent complained, clearly pouting for show only. Diederich scoffed.

“You mean that time when I had barely crossed the doorstep that your sister almost stabbed me to death?”

“An attack you expertly managed to dodge. Francis is just really concerned with who I surround myself with and likes testing my new associates. Her approving of you is high praise, my friend. You’ll come over somet time soon to congratulate them on Edward's birth, I hope?”

“Of course, he's Midford’s son, too, after all.”

While he was happy for his former fag clearly having found the love of his life in the woman who had defeated him in an official tournament, he was vaguely worried about him. At least he had known what he was getting into beforehand, and not vastly underestimated just what getting close to these people entailed.

“Splendid! Even though I have to admit I’m almost sad she didn’t fall for you. I like the idea of us as brothers-in-law, what do you say?”

“I say,” Diederich drawled, urging his horse to fall into a faster pace, “I’m considering selling out my almost-brother-in-law to the Austrians at this point in earnest.”

 

 

 

It was not until after dinner in the grand dining room and once they settled down in the spacious library over tea and coffee that Vincent spoke up again.

“You could have corrected me before on this being a humble abode. Now I’m feeling like a jerk.”

“The look on your face was more than worth holding my tongue at the moment.”

Vincent got up and walked past the countless shelves on the wall, trailing his hand over the spines of the volumes before he stopped at the window behind the desk which was overlooking the castle walls and the forests below, tinged golden with the slowly setting sun.

“You’re actually quite the rich boy, aren’t you, Dee?”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone like you, Phantomhive.”

 

Vincent laughed softly and turned back to face him. His expression was hard to pin down, as always. This man had infinite practice in maintaining a facade and slipping on different personae as needed as others would shrug on a jacket. When Diederich had first realised that, he had found it to be an utterly terrifying ability.

“Would it actually kill you to call me by my first name after all this time?”

“It just might.” Diederich set down his cup and crossed his arms. “Now, out with it, what have you done this time?”

“Does the name _Fürst Boleslav von Wilopolsky_ ring a bell with you?”

Diedrich mentally skimmed through the exhaustive compendia of nobles and gentry he regularly was expected to brush up on before big social events, then he shook his head.

“Can’t say that it does. Should it?”

 

“Quite the opposite, given it’s made up.” Vincent leaned over the desk, idly flicking through some of the papers as he spoke, and Diederich considered walking over to demonstratively shut the folders. Then again, chances were that even though some of it was confidential information, the Queen’s Watchdog knew already, anyway. “Hugo Schenk, a convicted conman from the Austrian part of Silesia, uses this title to gain access to the upper class and seduce women with tales of wealth and fortune, you know the type.”

He winked at Diederich, clearly having guessed that it had been on the tip of his tongue to mention that when it came to using ruses and fake identities, Vincent was just as proficient, although he used these means to other ends.

“Now, that wouldn’t be my problem, of course, but it just so happens that he managed to get a maid to run off with him who belonged to the household of a cousin once removed of Her Majesty.”

“Most unfortunate.”

“You said it, good staff is so hard to come by these days. Anyway, said servant girl stole a not inconsiderable amount of money from her master before she left, along with some documents of a more private nature.”

 

At this, Diederich perked up.

“I’m assuming by private you mean the kind that could get you into trouble if they surfaced.”

“Given how ardently he must have been pleading his case to Her Majesty to get me involved, it must be. I suppose it was meant to be a lifeline for the girl to make sure her master wouldn’t move against her, but she must have underestimated the value of it by a wide margin.”

“So you were sent to recover them and somehow managed to get into trouble, am I seeing this correctly?”

“It’s strange, really,” Vincent mused, returning to his seat with a thoughtful expression. “I tracked them down to Vienna - well, the would-be-Count, anyway, the girl seems to have met with a much more unfortunate fate on their journey - and I got a hold of the letters. Schenk, I planned to just leave to local law enforcement, but as I had just left his place, word reached me the whole place was torched to the ground.”

“What?”

Vincent nodded absentmindedly, his fingers drumming a fast-paced rhythm on the chair’s armrest.

“I had nothing to do with that, but it’s an odd coincidence. In any case, I thought it would be best to get out of Vienna quickly and get these letters out of anyone’s reach. Also, I called on you, just in case.”

Diederich sighed, but he was not actually angry about it. Vincent was not the type to grow anxious over nothing, quite the opposite, he usually treated situations where every sane person would loose their cool as normalcy, so for him to be this cautious spoke of a tangible threat.

 

“You’re lucky I was in the south already, so it wasn’t that big an issue to meet you."

“Thank you, still, for taking the time. Well, I had no trouble checking out of the hotel and getting on the train and was already beginning to think that maybe it was just my imagination after all, so imagine my surprise that when we were already in Salzburg, police tried to arrest me. I managed to bribe my way out of that and we traveled across the border into Germany via some less official pathways. It seems Austria’s asked for the extradition of my person if caught.”

“What exactly are they charging you with, other than being a general despicable and indecent human being? Arson and theft?”

“According to the official I paid off, espionage, potential high-treason and lèse-majesté,” Vincent listed cheerfully.

Feeling a headache comfortably nestling behind his eyes, Diederich slumped his shoulders in defeat.

 

“Of course they are. Well, that’s going to be a problem. You need to leave immediately for a country that hates England slightly less than Germany and Austria. At least at the moment, I’m aware that this is quite changeable.”

“I’ve already reached out to my contact in France.” Diederich knew ‘contact’ meant another one the Evil Noblemen and that it was probably better not to ask. “They’ll await me in Straßburg before the remaining French officials leave so I can tag along sureptitiously. Now, the remaining issue is how to get from here to there the fastest without ending up being taken into custody on sight.”

“You’re overestimating my influence severely if you think that I can hand-wave a wanted spy through all patrols,” Diederich furrowed his brow, wondering if Vincent truly believed him to be capable of such a feat. He did occasionally display an odd amount of misplaced belief in people, but this was too much even for him. “Especially as under these circumstances I can’t rely on official means or else my career in the army will have been very short-lived. You _did_ make absolutely sure you weren’t followed, I assume?”

 

Vincent gave him a look of thinly veiled contempt.

“No, I personally informed them I would seek refugee with a German army official, what do you think? Of course I made sure, we kept on switching between travelling by stagecoach and train, and I wasn’t using my real name in the first place."

“That’s a relief. What about Tanaka?”

“No arrest warrant for him.”

 

 

They both stayed silent for a bit after that. It was clear that even if Tanaka was not being looked for, his appearance alone would make Vincent easier to spot in their current environment as long as they travelled together. By tomorrow, news of the assumed fugitive would have spread well across the land, and even if Vincent claimed he was acting on precaution rather than founded worry, Diederich was not feeling entirely at ease.

“Alright, then,” he finally announced, standing up. “You should get some rest, Phantomhive. I hope this humble abode and its beds will agree with you. Feel free to pick the master bedroom as the guest of honour.”

“What about you, not joining me?”

“I,” Diederich declared, mentally already in the process of running down a list of the steps he would have to take, “will try to think of a way to sort out your messes, what else.”

His concentration was broken when he suddenly found himself pulled into an embrace. For a second he froze as his mind violently protested, bringing up that this was hardly behaviour becoming their position, let alone under these circumstances, then Vincent spoke up, voice vibrant with amusement.

"I didn't get to greet you properly before, but let me assure I honestly missed this charming personality of yours."

"I didn't miss you, at all," he replied, and still found himself returning the gesture somewhat clumsily.

 

If there was a way to truly divorce this man and his irritating influence from his life, he was yet to find it.

 

 

 

 


End file.
